


Hello Darkness

by Merit



Category: Orphan Black (TV)
Genre: Gen, Implied/Referenced Drug Use
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-04
Updated: 2014-10-04
Packaged: 2018-02-19 19:59:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,184
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2401067
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Merit/pseuds/Merit
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Beth, before.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hello Darkness

In the morning, the cool grey light scattering across her skin, Beth ran. She loved running, everything slowed in her head – finally – and the air was cold, bracing against her cheeks. She hated the heat. It slowed her down, made her groggy, made the thoughts in her head sluggish and mean. Her phone rang and Beth started, hand resting on her hip. The call came at 6 a.m. from an unknown number. Beth didn’t recognise the call sign, which meant it had to be foreign. Curious, annoyed, she answered, “Hello?”

“Beth Childs?” The person on the other end asked. German, most likely.

“Speaking,” she said, growing slightly frustrated. Why on earth would a woman from another country want to speak to her so early in the morning?

“I saw you in the news,” the woman said and Beth frowned. “You look just like me, almost like we could be twins,” the woman continued.

“This is some sort of joke,” Beth said in a bored tone and almost pressed the end button. She hated when people played jokes on her. She never really got _it_ and that just made them laugh _harder_.

“You weren’t conceived naturally, were you?” The woman continued and then laughed, thick and throaty.

“How do you know that?” Beth snapped, narrowing her eyes. It wasn’t exactly something that Beth shared. It wasn’t even something she had told Paul and she told him – nearly everything important. Her fingernails cut into the fleshy part of her palm and Beth shook her head.

“None of us were,” the woman continued. “My parents lied to me, until my mother died. They wanted a child so desperately; they were willing to do anything.”

“What do you want?” Beth said, her face growing warm. She took in a deep gulp of air.

“I’ve sent you an email,” the woman continued conversationally. “If you’re interested, then you should call me back.”

 

* * *

 

Paul was putting on his coat when she arrived home. He nodded at her. Beth smiled tightly back. She was still holding her phone and she wondered, briefly, if she should tell Paul about the strange call she had received. But he was already leaving, his lips a dry farewell against her cheek. Beth frowned, pressing a hand against her skin.

She checked her email, more out of habit than anything. The email from – Katja – came with several attachments. Beth had nearly bitten her lip nearly raw by the time she had finished reading them all. Her hand flashed to her phone and she was calling back the foreign number without a second thought.

“Is this some sort of joke?” Beth asked, her breath came out faster and she wanted to scream down the phone. “Because I don’t find it very funny.”

“Oh Beth,” the woman, no, Katja, sighed. “If this was some sort of joke, I would be laughing. None of this is funny.”

“How is this possible, then?” Beth said, “How can we be twins? Triplets?” She corrected, remembering the face of the French woman. “Our birth dates didn’t match. We weren’t even born in the same _countries_.”

“They can be adjusted,” Katja said. “But how long is a piece of string? Every pregnancy doesn’t last the same amount of time.”

“What are you implying?”

Katja was silent on the other end for several moments before she hummed, almost as if she was irritated. “Beth, I think we are clones.”

“That’s – that’s not possible,” Beth said. “I know my mother and we don’t exactly speak, but she would have never have involved herself in something so... _out there._ My father would have never have approved.”

“And if she didn’t know?” Katja asked softly. “What if you were daughter she wasn’t expecting?”

“That’s, that’s not relevant,” Beth said, staring off into space. She closed her eyes. “Why did you contact me?”

“You looked like me, another one, I thought and I couldn’t dismiss it,” Katja said. “One could have been explained away. But two and then more?” Her breath caught. “The same age? In three different countries? I saw you in the news and I couldn’t.”

“Of course,” Beth said, standing straighter. Another reason to thank the fucking McCarthy investigation, she thought bitterly. The whole thing had taken six months of her life and then ended in this rat trap. She had never wanted the media attention.

“And then there’s the one killing us,” Katja said, her voice barely a whisper. “It started a few months ago.”

“I don’t have jurisdiction in Europe,” Beth said, because she wasn’t flippin’ Interpol.

“No,” Katja said, rolling the word on her tongue. “But there have to be others. In America. You have to warn them.”

“I can’t - ,” she started, but she could. “I can,” she admitted. “But it is risk. They track our keystrokes when we go into the system.”

“They could die, Beth,” Katja said. “They have already started to,” she said and coughed. It sound unpleasant and Beth waited until she had stopped. “That was, that was nothing,” Katja said and it was a lie, a rotten lie and Beth let it go for the moment. There were already so many other things to worry about.

 

* * *

 

The doctor’s appointment was that afternoon. Beth applied her lipstick carefully and blotted her lips when she pressed too hard. She hardly wore lipstick. It wasn’t like she had to on the job and Paul always made a face when she wore anything on her lips. But. She stared at herself in the mirror and then nodded. “It’ll be fine, Childs,” she breathed.

“Gotta date?” Angie said, her voice teasing, as she emerged from a stall. She chose the sink next to Beth to wash her hands, her shoulder pressing into Beth’s space. Beth waited until the water stopped running and only answered when Angie was drying her hands.

“Doctor’s appointment,” Beth said and rolled her eyes as if it was _nothing_. “How’s the Durie case going? Been three weeks hasn’t it?”

Angie’s eyes narrow, the fire of competition entering every line of her face. “Ah, we can’t all be as lucky as you and spend six months on a case,” she said.

Beth raised an eyebrow, the only indication that Angie had scored. Then she smiled, the pink of the lipstick making everything seem brazen. “My bad,” she said, and leaned away from the mirror.

 

* * *

 

Afterward he kissed her, a dry brush against her cheek. Beth turned her head away, staring out of the window. It wasn’t warmth, it just felt cold. Beth rubbed her cheek. Paul sighed and then started the engine. It was another grey day. She had never noticed the colour before, but now it seemed everywhere. It made the sky heavier, like it could fall and crush her.

“I never thought of adoption,” Beth murmured. She always thought she wouldn’t have to. She wasn’t _young_ , but she wasn’t _old_.

“You don’t have to make that decision now,” Paul said.

“No,” Beth said, tracing her features, the arch of her brow, the curve of her lips. “But I will have to make one.”

Paul was silent. Beth wasn’t sure what she wanted him to say. But she wanted to him to have some kind of reaction. She would have been devastated if he had the opportunity of having a child being taken away. She would have raged for him, she would have.

“I’m ruined, inside,” Beth whispered. She looked at her features. There were several others out there. She wondered if they would be like her. Barren.

Pause. “No,” Paul said.

Beth swallowed.

 

* * *

 

There are two matches. Beth supposed she should count herself lucky that she even got two considering how outdated the systems were. Alison Hendrix lived close enough that she could drive and no one – not even Paul – would notice she had gone. Beth decided to see her in person. It was the closest thing to seeing another her and she was curious to see if they would look as identical in real life as they did in pictures.

Beth followed her, from home, to her kids’ school and then to home again. She walked up to the door and knocked. Alison Hendrix looked like she wanted to scream when Beth opened the door but instead she just nodded and smiled. Beth flashed her badge and Alison fingered her pearls, her breath coming out faster. Nervous, Beth noted, putting away her badge thoughtfully.

“My name is Beth Childs,” Beth said and invited herself in.

“I didn’t say you could,” Alison said from behind her. She scurried up to Beth, her sneakers making squeaking noises on the ground. She was frowned at Beth, outrage in her brow, in her shoulders.

“I wouldn’t be here unless I had to,” Beth said, eyeing the mantelpiece. Two pretty children smile up at her. “Yours?” She asked. She couldn’t see herself in them; she couldn’t see _Alison_ in them. They looked loved.

Alison straightened her spine and rearranged the picture, drawing it further away from Beth. “They’re mine,” she said shortly, before her hands fell to her thighs. “But they were adopted,” she admitted reluctantly. “I wasn’t,” she added. “I’m sure my mother would have told me,” she said, giving Beth an arch stare. Beth had to restrain a smile.

“We didn’t share a womb,” Beth said. “Katja says none of us did. With the women she’s found, well, it would have been very unlikely.”

“Katja?” Alison asked. Beth passed a folder over. There were dozens of pictures inside there, birth certificates, detailing the lives of the many clones Katja had found. Beth had thought of several excuses if she had been caught with it, before she realised that she could just shrug and say she was messing around in photoshop. Alison’s lips were white by the end of it and Beth watched distantly as Alison poured herself a glass of wine and drank half in one gulp. It was all very practiced.

“And they’re killing us,” Alison said, and then shot a glare at Beth. “Then why are you here? Shouldn’t you be stopping – stopping whoever is doing it?”

“It has been happening in Europe,” Beth said. _“You’re not the only one with a life here,”_ she wanted to say. She had Paul and her job and her races and – her life. Alison looked like the type who would react before thinking, Beth thought critically, she guess some things stayed the same. “I don’t have jurisdiction there,” she said, because it seemed like it was something that Beth would have to repeat over and over to her fellow clones.

“And what do you want from me?” Alison asked, her eyes darting to the photo of her children.

“Nothing,” Beth said, “Yet. So far the killer has only targeted European girls, they must live there,” she said.

“Europe,” Alison repeated. “Not so far away, really.”

Not with international air travel, no. “No,” Beth said. She felt useless for a moment before she shook off the feeling. She was a cop, she was meant to help people. She turned her gaze over to Alison. She would even be helping herself, she thought with amusement.

“And why would they make us, if they didn’t want us to live?” Alison burst out. There was a high colour in her cheeks, matching her headband.

“Well,” Beth said, exhaling heavily. “It might not be the same people.” Alison swallowed. And then swallowed the rest of her wine.

 

* * *

 

“Beth,” Art said and Beth started, swinging around in her chair and giving him a wild look. She blinked twice and then rubbed her eyes.

“You look shit,” he said.

“Hey, just wanted to look like you,” she retorted, but it felt weak. Her eyes felt like something had curled up and died there. She wondered how long she had been at her desk. “What is it?”

“I called your name three times,” Art said, shaking his head. “Go home. You shouldn’t even be here.”

“Yeah,” Beth said, pulling herself closer to her desk. She had passed out in her chair, looking for _them_ , us. She fucking hoped no one would be looking at the computer any time soon. It would lead them to people with faces just like her, which would be fucking difficult to explain. Maybe she could say she was a secret sextuplet. Beth snorted and shook her head.

Art was still watching her. “Everything alright at home?”

“Shut up. Yeah. Things are fucking fine,” Beth said, giving Art a tight grin. It came as false, she could see that in Art’s eyes.

“I’ve seen my fair share of broken marriages, broken relationships,” Art said.

“I know that,” Beth muttered, running a hand through her hair. “The divorce lawyers practically hover outside the station. Maybe they should rent the building next door,” she quipped, smiling. Her lips were so dry her skin ripped and Beth turned away, covering her mouth with her hand. She tasted blood.

Art sighed heavily. “You need to talk,” he said.

“I do,” Beth said, voice clipped. “Professional services and everything.” There wasn’t much talking. The doctor just gave her a look and prescribed what Beth needed. Art would just worry, nag if he knew. He was like an annoying older brother at times.

“Whatever,” he said, shrugging. “As you as you can work.”

“I’m not going to break down,” Beth scoffed.

 

* * *

 

“You’re home late,” Paul said, not looking above the ammo magazine he was reading when she came home. He had his feet up on the coffee table even though he knew that Beth hated having to clean the scuff marks that his boots caused. She frowned, but he didn’t notice.

“Paper work,” she said shortly. She took out a pill bottle and Paul’s gaze flickered in her direction.

“More?” He said lightly, as if judgment wasn’t lined in every bone and muscle of his body.

“I’m having headaches,” she muttered, hating that she had to defend, explain herself to him. She couldn’t understand, she loved Paul so much, accepted him. She stood in the kitchen, fingers digging into the countertop. It hurt, knuckles turning white. She unclenched her hands, slowly, because her fingers seemed as heavy and inflexible as stone.

“Hmm,” he said, attention already back on his magazine. Beth took two – they weren’t for headaches – and stretched over hands over the counter. The tension in her shoulders didn’t go away, her breathing picked up for a second before she deliberately tried to slow her breathing.

“I might go running,” she said, her voice already starting to sound distant to her ears.

Paul didn’t say goodbye, didn’t volunteer to go with her, and didn’t _move_ , when she left.

 

* * *

 

The air was cold and bruising against her flesh. Every time she breathed it was ice down her lungs. She wasn’t wearing a scarf, she wasn’t wearing a jacket. Her finger tips, her lips were blue when she opened the door to their home. Paul was gone. The magazine on the couch. Her hands were shaking – just the cold, _Paul_ – when she decided it was probably time to contact Cosima. She sat in the kitchen, for the first time wondering why Paul had chosen so much grey. She hadn’t cared when she moved in. She hadn’t really cared about interior design but still. There was a lot of grey. The walls were closing in.

She hit voicemail. “Hello Cosima,” Beth said, quietly. “My name is Beth Childs. I have just sent you an email that you might find _interesting_.”

Cosima could be useful, Beth thought. She lay back on the cold countertop, her skin suddenly too hot. Every scientist Beth had known was curious. And who wouldn’t be curious about a horde of women with the same face as you?

 

* * *

 

Cosima was more than curious. She was excited. For the first few minutes, Beth just listened down the other end of her phone, as Cosima babbled. It was a stroke of luck, she decided, that Cosima’s speciality fit so perfectly with their needs. Too perfectly, another voice whispered. Beth crushed it down. Not everything fucking thing could be planned.

“I’m going to need your blood,” Cosima finished. The words hung in the air.

“My blood?” Beth asked dryly. Too dryly, considering Cosima’s response.

“Hair, whatever,” Cosima said. “I have some ideas, but it just seems impossible. Clones! Maybe. That’s why I need the blood. This would have started over thirty years ago and there’s nowhere that I know of that had the technology to create us,” she paused. “I don’t know if it would be possible today,” she said slowly. “The ethics alone. This is pretty fucked up you know.”

Beth didn’t know exactly what Cosima was implying. She had half theories whirling around her head. She tried to ignore them. But finding out who they were could maybe explain why there was a killer on their tracks. Sometimes she felt like a giant target and she had to stop herself from turning when her back started to itch. She couldn’t shake off the feeling she was being watched.

And so. “Someone is trying to kill us,” Beth said.

Another pause. “I know,” Cosima said. “I saw the names. I see their faces.”

Beth sent off a sample in the morning.

 

* * *

 

“I need your help,” Alison said, not looking at her in the face. She was wearing a blue headband today, with the freshly pressed cotton shirt. It screamed MOM and Beth supposed Alison was living her dream.

“Oh?” Beth said. Alison refused to make the trip to the city often – my children, my swim class, my husband – but Beth felt odd showing Alison around her territory. What if someone she knew saw her? Sometimes she wondered how no one had clued in there was a horde of identical looking women. There were pictures of everyone on the Internet after all. And she was pretty sure whoever had created them hadn’t foreseen the rise of social media. Maybe it was deliberate, she thought. Why they had never found each other till now.

“I need you to teach me to shoot,” Alison gulped. “I need to protect my family.”

Beth smiled and then nodded shortly. “I’ll do that, Alison,” she said.

 

* * *

 

“Beth,” Katja whispered down the other end of the phone. Her voice cracked and croaked and Beth almost winced from hearing it. “Beth. Something is wrong with me.”

“Your doctor - ” Beth started. Because, the fuck? She wasn’t a doctor. She couldn’t be everything.

“Pshaw,” she said and then started coughing. “Nothing they can do. Cancer, TB, nothing. It seems to be something new. They almost wanted to lock me down before they figured out I wasn’t... _infectious_.”

“One of us is a scientist,” Beth said, staring at the ceiling. “I forwarded her email to you.”

“Yes,” Katja said and laughed. It was beautiful, but it ended in coughs that rattled down the line. “Clones,” she said, voice heavy with amusement. “One hell of a design flaw.”

“Hmm,” Beth said. Thinking, _barren_. None of them had children.

“This escalated things, Beth,” Katja murmured. “I’ve managed to obtain samples, but the others... they keep dying. They keep getting murdered. I think, I think they’re following me.”

“You have to leave,” Beth said. She swallowed. “Come here. Aren’t we supposed to have the best healthcare in the world?”

“It will be good meeting you, Beth,” Katja said.

“Leave,” Beth repeated.

“Soon,” Katja muttered. “There’s one more I have to meet. I have to warn them.” Beth was silent. “Maybe I’m bringing the curse on them,” Katja whispered.

“No,” Beth said firmly. “The killer is.”

 

* * *

 

The fish was a symbol of Christianity, Beth had read. She had traced the symbol, committing it to memory before returning the book to the library shelf. She of all people knew what people could access, what people could know about her if they had the right tools, the right access. The people who were killing her clones across the ocean had money and power. There wasn’t another way you could travel like that, kill like that – sniper, a sniper, ex military she had wondered? It wasn’t training you could exactly pick up casually.

There was movement to her left before it quickly shuffled out of view. Beth rocked back on her heels thoughtfully and slowly left the library. She recognised that head. She now recognised the tattoo on the neck. It made sense, didn’t it? In a twisted way.

An extreme Christian sect would have every reason to want to exterminate them. They were abominations. A corruption of ethics and science, something beyond worldly power. They had created life where there had been none. Beth wondered if she should share this with Cosima, before shaking her head. Knowing this would only worry her. Knowing this would only make Alison frantic. There was someone close, someone watching and what could they do? There was no proof.

She leaned against a wall and watched people walk past – Maggie Chen passing like a spectre, the gall of her, not even giving Beth a side glance. “Maggie,” she mouthed, dread growing. Her stomach twisted anxiously and Beth pressed a hand against her stomach, willing it away. Maggie would share her knowledge of Beth’s movements, she could have already followed her to Alison’s house. Steel knotted itself in her stomach, as Beth launched herself of the brick wall and after Maggie.

Lunch hour had passed and this wasn’t exactly a busy neighbourhood. It might have been once, a few years ago or a few decades ago before the latest crisis had hit. Maggie seemed to realise that Beth was following, her pace quickened and then she half turned.

Beth shot her. Beth shot her and Maggie fell to the ground, whatever words she might have said failing, instead she gasped.

Beth had never taken a life before. The air seemed to scream around her as she looked down at Maggie Chen’s body. Beth felt sick. Her gaze flickered to the tattoo on her neck. Her resolve firmed.

She would have been able to take down Maggie Chen. But Alison? Cosima? They couldn’t. Alison probably could, Beth considered, her hand reaching for her cell phone. She had to call, she had to call. But Alison had her kids to think about.

“Art?” Her voice broke. His voice was smooth and easy as he said hello. She might have been pulling her ass on some of their cases, but, but it wasn’t _this_. This wasn’t something she could explain away as headaches, as the wrong pill, as something wrong with Paul. This he would have to be angry about. “I need your help.”

 

* * *

 

She found Tony by accident. She had only searched for women, not men. She cursed herself for the blindness. But she might not have contacted him, if she had known. Beth spent the next several minutes reading Tony’s criminal record. Leaning back in her chair, Beth sighed, rubbing her temples. She just couldn’t beat the wicked headaches she was having.

He lived too far away for her to just _casually_ visit. It would be so much easier if people could come to her for once, she thought grumpily. Instead she was travelling all over the city and to the outer suburbs because she was the only who could, who would. At least Cosima was happy to Skype with her.

Beth slumped over the desk, aware that if anyone came in, they would be instantly suspicious. Beth wasn’t supposed to be. Beth was supposed to be on suspension, not looking up petty criminals in different cities. It was almost 3 a.m. and Paul was already going to be on her back for leaving in the middle of the night. And it wasn’t like she could tell him. Not when he seemed so close to – and Beth didn’t know. He didn’t leave, he didn’t tell her what was wrong.

She drove to Tony’s address. He wasn’t there, long gone, the hippie girl with the blonde dreads said she heard he was squatting downtown. The squatters downtown said he was living with a boyfriend, the boyfriend said that they had broken up weeks ago and that it was living rough. A homeless dude – Sammy, screamed ex military but then it was hard not to have a homeless population without vets – muttered that Tony had left days ago.

In the end Tony found her.

Beth had been starting to regret the journey. So she ended up in a bar, shady and thick with old smoke. The beer selection was surprisingly good though. She had a missed call from Paul and a few messages, three missed calls from Art and half a dozen texts. The gist was the same; where are you, Beth? Why aren’t you where I left you? Beth finished her beer and waved for another, staring at the condensation slowly making its way down the glass.

“So,” someone said, sprawling next to her. Beth stilled and turned her head sideways. Her face, no Tony’s face stared back at her. “I heard a lady looking like me was wandering around town looking for me,” Tony shrugged. “And they all said you smelled like a cop.” His tone indicated he thought it a horrid fate.

“I am a cop,” Beth said, nodding her thanks as the bartended placed a draft in front of her. Tony got a whiskey.

Tony’s face twisted up. “Ugh. Disgusting. I can’t believe someone who looks like me could stoop so low.”

Beth snorted. “Doesn’t explain why you’re here.”

“Why I’m here?” Tony said, thick brows rising up. “You’re the one looking for me.”

“You’re the one with outstanding warrants,” Beth countered.

“I know cops,” Tony said, giving her a direct stare. “And you don’t smell like the ones from around here.”

“Hmm,” Beth said. “I suppose you’re wondering why we look alike?”

“I’m a test tube baby, baby,” Tony said, wriggling his eyebrows filthily. “I’m too good to stop at one.”

“Hmm,” Beth said lightly and then shook her head. “Just mumbling bullshit.” Tony laughed.

She told him to watch out for himself, even though it felt like she was wasting words. She wasn’t sure who would win in the fight; the deadly killer hunting them or the unpredictable, evasive Tony.

“I’m gone,” Tony said, shrugging easily. He jerked his head to the left. Somehow Beth wasn’t surprised to see Sammy, the supposedly homeless veteran, raise a glass to her. He cleaned up nice, she supposed, giving Tony a side long glance.

“Yours?”

“Mine,” Tony said, teeth bright and white in the dim of the bar.

“I have one too,” Beth said slowly. “One of the big bulking ex military sorts...” Her voice trailed off. She had always found it odd that Paul never talked about his days in khaki. The typical repressed white male, Art had opined before throwing off the matter. He had never really cared for Paul.

When they met, it was Paul who wooed her, who courted her, who sent elaborate flowers to her office. “Don’t,” she had said, laughing over the scent of roses, red. “I work with cops. It is going to take me months for those assholes to get over this.” Paul had smiled and pulled her into a kiss.

He wanted to make her fall in love with him.

She tried to remember that.

Her phone buzzed and Beth didn’t look away from her drink. Tony laughed into his drink. “You’re not going to answer that?” He said his eyes dark and dancing above the rim. They weren’t the same, Beth thought, none of us were.

Beth rejected the call. “No,” she said quietly. “But I should go. If something... happens, here’s my details,” she murmured, passing a piece of paper to Tony. He glanced at it before shoving it in his pocket.

“Sure thing,” he said. _Never_ , he didn’t say.

 

* * *

 

They were an experiment. Wouldn’t it make sense that they were being watched? It wouldn’t be very scientific otherwise, right?

Beth sat alone in her home. Everything was so grey, she thought again. And hugged herself, she cried, wetness seeping into her sweat pants. She thought she was supposed to be meeting Art. Maybe. She thought she heard banging on the door earlier, but it could have been her head, pounding, pounding, and reminding her of the pain.

He was supposed to love her, right?

Beth stretched out on the couch. One of the pillows smelled like Paul and she hugged it close for a second before flinging it away from her body. She couldn’t believe, she couldn’t believe she had trusted him. She had loved him so much. She had shared everything she could with him and their relationship. She was fairly certain he had never loved her.

She had begged him to leave her but he had refused. Beth had staggered back and couldn’t see an escape. She barely had a job, who knows if she would be able to keep that. The townhouse was his. Her mother would never accept her back home. Friends had drifted away in the last year. She couldn’t blame them. She had been a shit friend.

There was nowhere to go. Nowhere to run when she had Alison and Cosima depending on her. Katja was coming and Beth had always liked the acerbic German but she couldn’t muster up anything when she thought about her.

Maybe I’ll die, she thought. She shivered at the idea.

A key entered the door. She felt the grind, the click as it was accepted. She didn’t move. If it was Paul... he wouldn’t care to see her in this state. She didn’t care.

But it wasn’t Paul.

 

* * *

 

Beth watched herself die and shook. She hadn’t asked questions about the woman – her clone – who had taken the step forward. Then she frowned. A dark haired woman had just stolen her bag. Beth opened her mouth, ready to report this outrage. The Dyad people hadn’t even realised noticed, too focused on seeing her reaction.

Beth closed her mouth and shut her eyes.

She hadn’t wanted to leave. She had wanted to confront Paul. She had loved him, but it looked like he hadn’t a choice. It made Beth uneasy.

“So it’s done,” she said.

They smiled and nodded at her. They thought they were going to _control_ her.

She was going to fuck things up from the inside. She might not have much choice about being here, but Beth had been lying for months – years – now. She was going to destroy them if it took the rest of her life. But. It was better if they thought she was on their side. That she had just wanted to find the killer.

And she did want to find the person who was killing her fellow clones.

“Show me the file,” she directed and an underling scurried away. It wasn’t much. But it was more than Beth had been able to collect. Here she had a real chance of saving Alison and Cosima.

And bringing their creators down.

Beth smiled and shooed the Dyad shits away. She had work to do.

**Author's Note:**

> Title is from "The Sound of Silence" by Simon & Garfunkel.
> 
> This was, of course, influenced by the some of the Beth lives meta. Which I had lost by the time I thought to link this ^^;;; Considering how fractured Dyad appears (all the different elements, from Aldous to Rachel to Marion and who knows what else) I thought it possible that someone else thought it interesting to set a clone on a clone killer. Not that Beth had much of a choice, after becoming self aware.
> 
> And then this happened, which was slightly~ longer than expected.


End file.
